Template placeholder with Chapter 332
Chapter 332:
Ricky was stunned for a moment, puzzled by Wyatt’s words, his instincts urging him to raise his right hand.
Wyatt held his tongue, casting a fleeting glance at Barrie, who instantly grasped what Wyatt meant.
In a flash, a blade gleamed, and Ricky’s anguished cry pierced the air. He clutched his wounded hand, pain searing through him.
“For the wrongs you’ve inflicted on Amelia, I’ll make you answer for each one. Consider this the opening act of your reckoning,” Wyatt declared, his voice cold and resolute.
Ricky, paralyzed by fear, could only watch in terror as Wyatt and Barrie vanished into the distance.
Amelia bore only minor grazes, but Wyatt’s back was a canvas of severe burns, angry blisters on his scorched skin.
Thankfully, the first-aid kit held Marc’s miraculous ointment, the clear gel swiftly staunching the bleeding as it was gently layered on.
Noticing the worry clouding Amelia’s eyes, Wyatt offered a soft smile, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s nothing to fret over, just a small injury p>
As their car rolled into the elegant Hillside Villa, Marc rushed to greet them at the entrance, having come here in a hurry upon hearing the news.
Examining Wyatt’s injuries, Marc found the fabric of Wyatt’s clothes fused to the burns, requiring careful application of disinfectant to peel it away without reopening the wounds.
As Marc doused Wyatt’s back with disinfectant, beads of sweat formed on Wyatt’s brow, his jaw tightening against the sting.
𝗥𝗲со𝘮meո𝘥 𝘵𝘰 у𝗈𝗎𝘳 f𝗿i𝗲ո𝗱s
“Lucky you applied my special medicine, or you would be in real pain now,” Marc said, deftly separating the cloth from the tender skin, though his movements were far from gentle when he treated Wyatt’s wounds.
Amelia, watching Wyatt’s face grow paler by the moment, couldn’t hold back her concern. “Dr. Chapman, could you perhaps go a bit easier on him?” she said softly.
Marc waved off her worry with a chuckle. “No need to worry; his injuries aren’t life-threatening p>
He then slipped back into his carefree demeanor, jabbing cotton swabs into the wounds with little finesse. Wyatt’s sharp intake of breath spurred Amelia to step in again. “Dr. Chapman, maybe I should do this for him?” she suggested tentatively.
Hearing that, Marc handed her the ointment and swabs.
Amelia applied the medicine with delicate precision, her touch featherlight to avoid causing Wyatt further pain. Occasionally, she blew gently on the wounds, a tender gesture that made Wyatt’s frame stiffen slightly.
From the sofa, Marc lounged with a smirk, watching, but Wyatt’s icy glare cut through the air. “We’ve got this handled. You can leave now p>
Marc, stifling a retort under Wyatt’s steely stare, walked away quietly.
Once Wyatt’s wounds were neatly bandaged, Amelia’s thoughts turned to Collen, whom she had hidden in the bushes during the chaos. Turning to Wyatt, she asked with urgency, “Did you see Collen p>
“I made sure he was taken to the hospital when I got there,” Wyatt replied.
Amelia’s heart eased slightly, though her worry for Collen lingered. “I need to go see him at the hospital,” she said.
“It’s too late tonight. We’ll go first thing in the morning,” Wyatt replied in a gentle voice.
The next morning, Amelia’s concern for Collen propelled her and Wyatt to Kretol City Hospital.